


Shakespeare and History Textbooks

by orphan_account



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Human AU, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Teacher AU, The high school teacher AU that literally no one asked for, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-10
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-25 18:57:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4972555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grelle teaches English and Agni teaches history and he can certainly do more than borrow a pen. Also, they just so happen to have the same prep hour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Would you mind if I borrowed a pen?”  
Grelle sighed and tossed the stack of essays onto her desk. There was a limited amount of butchered analysis of Shakespeare splattered with incorrect grammar she could handle. And Grelle had hit her limit.  
She stared up at the man, the attractive history teacher from across the hall. She offered him a wide grin.  
“Of course,” she said, pulling a red pen from the mug on her desk. “But you can always come over for more than just a pen, Mister . . .”  
She held out the pen to him. He took it, holding it for a second and giving her a flustered look.  
“Agni, please,” he told her. “We are colleagues, aren't we?”  
“Well, Agni, feel free to keep the pen. You might need it,” Grelle said with a casual wave of her hand. “You must be in a rush.”  
“I don't have a class this hour,” Agni said.  
“Oh really?” Grelle asked, leaning back in her chair, crossing her legs at the knees. “Perhaps we can ditch the campus and get coffee sometime.”  
“Perhaps,” Agni agreed. He turned and left, Grelle's gaze following him out.

* * *

One coffee date let to six more. They gossiped almost constantly about students—both good and bad—and whether or not to require notes to be kept in Cornell format for next year.  
Sometimes she would come into his classroom, sitting on one of the desks with her ankles crossed, legs swinging slightly. She always slipped innuendos into her conversations with him.  
Sometimes he would come into her classroom and sit on one of the desks. He would always keep his small talk restrained.  
It was on one of their coffee run dates that they got caught in a sudden downpour. Together, they hurried to Agni's car, Grelle laughing a bit as she ran in her heels.  
Once inside his car, she went to work on fixing her make-up. She could feel him watching her and, when she turned her head, Agni was staring at her.  
Stowing her make-up in her purse, Grelle said, “We should warm up. It wouldn't do for one of us to have to take a sick day.”  
“Right. Sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his keys out of his pocket.  
She teased, “There's more than one way to warm up.”  
“For all the innuendos you use, it's hard to tell if you're actually flirting.”  
“I'm serious,” she assured him. “You're attractive, intelligent and kind.”  
He cupped her chin. She stared at him for a moment and nodded. He leaned in and kissed her, chapped lips against her own soft mouth.  
She pulled back slowly, sucking on his lower lip.   
“Listen, Agni,” she whispered, one on her hands cupping his wheel. For a long moment, she thought about what to say before she continued. “You're a wonderful man and all, but—”  
“Don't,” he told her. “Don't tell me this was all some game.”  
“It wasn't,” she said. “That's why I'm so scared.”  
Agni put a hand on her knee and said, “You don't have to be scared.”  
“I don't want you to feel like I've lied to you or led you on,” she said, pointedly looking away from him.  
“Unless your entire personality is an act, you haven't lied to me.”  
She sighed. “Just . . . If you don't like me after this, don't get violent.”  
With some awkward shifting—Wasn't this like the one night she'd spent with that handsome anatomy teacher?— Grelle settled herself into his lap. Agni pushed her skirt up with one hand and Grelle's breath hitched. He traced idle patterns over the fabric of her underwear. Grelle bit her lip, feeling herself stir under his touch.  
She couldn't read his expression. It made her heart race and not nearly in the ways she wanted. She started to get out of his lap when he held her hips.  
“Aren't you upset?” Grelle asked.  
“No,” Agni told her.  
Grelle sighed and buried her face in the crook of his neck.  
“I just . . . you'll have to tell me what to do,” he said, rubbing her back. “I don't want to make you upset.”  
She shook her head. “You won't.”  
She twisted, fumbling around in her purse. She hummed and pulled out a little bottle and heard Agni groan softly.  
“You're okay with this?” he asked, one hand running up her thigh.  
Grelle nodded and kissed him. “Of course I'm sure.”  
Agni asked, “How should I—?”  
“Just follow my lead,” she told him, kissing his jawline.   
She reached down and freed Agni from his slack just enough. Grelle uncapped the lubricant, spreading it over him. He groaned and she felt his fingers dig into her hip.  
“You don't need—?” Agni asked.  
Grelle nipped his neck. “Trust me. I know myself.”  
With no further protests, Grelle stroked him a few times, getting him harder. Satisfied, she shifted her clothes and sunk down onto him.  
“God,” Agni said, one hand on her lower back, fingers dug into her skin.  
Grelle grinned at him. One hand rested on his shoulder as she rocked her hips. She enjoyed the feeling of his hands on her hips as she moved and shifted.  
“God,” he muttered again.  
Grelle nipped at his neck before she murmured, “You can be a bit rough with me. It's scarf weather, after all.”  
With one hand on her hip, Agni cupped her cheek. “I don't want to hurt you or be rough with you.”   
He leaned in and kissed her, Grelle relishing in the feeling of his chapped lips against hers. She moved her hips faster, wanting to please him.  
“Tell me what to do,” he begged.  
She took the hand on her hip, guiding him to her. Grelle whispered, “Just touch me.”  
Agni nodded and stroked her, making Grelle shudder. His hand moved faster, drawing more moans out of her. She bit her lip.  
He came first, hand stroking her. When he whispered all sorts of dirty things, Grelle couldn't help herself.  
As they tried to catch their breath, Grelle rested her head on his shoulder. It had stopped raining as hard and she began the work of making them look decent again.  
“You've done this before?” he asked.  
Grelle nodded, not quite ready to talk. Once they looked respectable, she slid into her seat, adding perfume to mask the scent. She looked over at him and sighed.  
“You've got make-up all over you,” she muttered, scrubbing it off his face.  
Agni smiled at her, “You're very efficient.”  
Grelle shrugged. “A proper woman can be wild, but she has to know how to clean herself up after. Now, it wouldn't do for us to show up late to our own classes.”

* * *

Grelle stepped into the classroom to a herd of silent students. After taking her place at her desk, she gave them her most stern look, just to keep them in line.  
“I know some of you have studied very hard for today's test,” she began. “But, because spring break is this Friday, I've decided to move the test. Nothing like finishing a large test and having a week of mindless vacation.”  
The class seemed to let out a stifled and collective sigh of relief. All except the small, scattered minority of those who actually studied. Poor children.  
“However, I'll be assigning extra homework covering the Shakespeare material that obviously went over your heads.” Grelle said, pushing up her glasses.  
No one dared to complain.  
Grelle stood from her desk and began writing the assignments on the board. Perhaps she could forgive them, but only if she had enough _coffee_ .


	2. Chapter 2

Grelle and Agni continued to see each other. Some mornings, they went to get coffee and some they just sat in one room or the other and chatted. After hours, they spent time together, getting dinner. Some nights, they just sat in silence, grading papers and tests and enjoying each other’s company.  
And, as spring break loomed with the possibility of free time, Grelle consulted the mystical oracle that was Angelina Dalles.  
“Why don’t you just tell him?” Angelina asked, keeping her voice low as her teacher’s aid re-shelved biology textbooks.  
Grelle, sitting on one of the desks before Angelina’s, shrugged. “Because it’s weird. Guys are always weird about it.”  
“If he can handle the obscene amounts of lace you wear, I’m sure he can handle your ever-so-fragile psyche,” Angelina said, rolling her eyes. “Besides, it was, what, three years ago?”  
“Double it.”  
“Six?” Angelina said. She did some math and raised a brow. “Either you’re old or were a really mature kiddo.”  
“You’re just as old as I am!” Grelle pointed out.  
At her outburst, the student looked up from the books. “Ma’am?”  
“It’s alright, Theresa,” Angelina said, giving the girl a smile. “Grelle’s not going to bite your head off.”  
“I might bite yours off for calling me old,” Grelle muttered.  
“Oh hush,” Angelina said, glancing at the clock. “You better get going. I charge by the hour when it comes to therapy.”  
“Like you’re any help,” Grelle said, standing up and smoothing out her skirt. She turned, leaving Angelina and her student to grading and re-shelving.  
She climbed the stairs, sighing. On the second floor, the calculus teacher--William--and the algebra teacher--Sebastian--were at it again. Watching a few seconds of their debate over whether an extracurricular course or a mandatory one has smarter students, Grelle had to side with William.   
Ignoring their screaming match (Surely, they were having some wonderful hate sex), she went to the third floor, her floor. Heels clicking on the tile, she returned before the bell. Students shuffled in from lunch, sinking into assigned seats.  
“Now, since you’ve all done such wonderful work on the Shakespeare essay,” Grelle said, eyes focused on the few students who had failed, “I’ve decided to give extra credit.”   
She wrote the assignment on the board as well as the homework. She also wrote down a list of those who needed to see her after class, all three of them. Settling behind her desk, she waited for those with initiative to copy down the assignments.  
Guiding her students through the notes for the new section, which she promised wouldn’t have homework until after spring break, she sighed. Requiring Cornell might seem to make them more focused, but she could tell who was secretly reading or drawing in the margins. Perhaps she should require notebooks checks like some of the other teachers.  
When the bell rang, she stared at the three she’d picked out of the crowd. They obediently came to her desk and she pursed her lips.  
“You three had the worst grades on the essay,” she told them in a softer voice.   
“I thought my angle was good.” It was that Ciel boy. He was so young and placed in such advanced classes at Angelina’s request.  
She nodded, “I can see why you might compare King Lear to Candide, Ciel.” Grelle held up a finger and turned to the other two. “You two simply cannot use abbreviated speech in an essay. And your MLA formatting was off. If you two do the extra credit, perhaps, I’ll forgive it this time.”  
“Sorry Miss Sutcliff,” one of the students said. She didn’t look sorry, Grelle mused.   
She nodded and told them, “Off with the two of you.”  
Once the other two had scampered out of the classroom, Grelle turned to Ciel. “I appreciate the parallel you drew between the two works, so I’ll give you another chance. Simply remove Candide and turn the revised essay in to me the day after spring break.”  
Ciel nodded, looking bitter. “Yes, Miss Sutcliff.”  
“Ciel, you’re a bright student. One of the brightest in my class,” Grelle told him. She turned, writing him a pass. “If you’re late, just tell them I’m taking you on as my TA. Someone has to strike fear into the students and that gloomy look of yours ought to do it.”  
Ciel took the pass and gave her a small grin. He turned and left as the next class filtered in.  
Two more days and Grelle would be free from grading migraine-inducing essays. Two more days and she could spend some quality time with Agni.

Grelle laid there, next to Agni. Shadows fell across them and, if she wanted to, she could remove her blouse completely without worrying. But it wasn’t the shadows that made her tense up at the thought of removing her last little shield.  
“Agni?”  
He hummed, sleepy and sated. His arm pulled her close to him. He looked at her, honest concern, and asked, “Is something wrong?”  
“No,” Grelle said softly. “Everything’s fine.”  
“Good.” He kissed her forehead. “You need your rest.”  
Grelle nodded, closing her eyes. Here, in his arms, she felt safe. 

Agni, on Friday night, brought take-out from Grelle’s favourite place to celebrate their new liberation from work. He found the door unlocked and worry settled into his chest.  
“Grelle?” he called, letting himself into the house.  
The television was on, but it didn’t settle his nerves. He set the plastic bags down on the kitchen table and moved into her living room.  
Grelle laid on the couch, red hair flowing in a manner than startled Agni. He honestly thought she had been stabbed. When she turned her head, he sighed.  
“You startled me,” Agni told her. “What are you doing?”  
Grelle sat up and sighed. “Alright, I’ve had some wine, so I’m feeling brave.”   
She looked up at him. Agni licked his lips and sat on the couch next to her. Grelle rested  
her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes. She held out her arms and Agni saw the thin scars up her upper arms.  
“I was afraid,” she admitted. “I don’t want you to treat me any differently.”  
Agni put an arm around her and kissed her temple. “How old are they, if you don’t mind?”  
“Six years,” she said softly. “But every guy who sees them thinks I’m some fragile little creature.”  
Agni shook his head. “Then they didn’t know you.”  
She smiled and kissed his cheek. “You’re one to talk.”  
“I know you’re strong,” he said softly. “I still have some of the bruises to prove it.”  
Grelle laughed, staring up at him. She shifted, settling herself in his lap. Agni’s hands settled on her hips, admiring how thin the fabric of her nightgown was.  
Kissing along his jawline, she said, “We should just do it right here.”  
“No,” Agni told her. “You’ve had wine.”  
“Only a glass or two,” she told him.   
As much as Agni wanted to say yes, he couldn’t. He kissed her and said softly, “No, Grelle. I’m not going to do that to you.”  
She made a soft noise of want and Agni set her on the couch. He got up, leaving Grelle staring after him. He brought her a cup of water.  
Grelle raised a brow, clutching the cup. She stared down at it.  
Agni watched her for a moment and realized she was confused.  
Grelle looked up, completely lost. “I’ve never had someone try to sober me up.”  
Agni nodded. “Just . . . drink it, okay? And we can go to bed.” He paused and, after realizing what Grelle might’ve thought, he added, “To sleep, I mean. We can go to sleep.”  
Grelle sipped her water, staring up at him. Agni watched, relaxing when she kept the cup close to her lips. When she was done, Agni took the cup, putting it in the sink.  
He helped her up and Grelle leaned against him. He kept her close to him, leading her up to her bedroom. Agni laid her in bed and Grelle grabbed his wrist.  
“Stay,” she begged him.  
He nodded and got in bed next to her. “Are you alright?”  
“I’ll be fine,” she said softly. “Thank you.”  
She felt safer here with him.


End file.
